


Pleasant consequences

by Taera



Series: The other path (alternate vampire!AU) [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Available in Chinese, Available in Russian, Blood Drinking, Gift Fic, M/M, Sorry no Christmas, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:20:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taera/pseuds/Taera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haytham got poisoned and only Charles was there on time to save him. Consequences ensued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pleasant consequences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luthienberen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Приятные последствия](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8210996) by [Tatrien (Taera)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taera/pseuds/Tatrien)



> Merry Christmas, Luthy! :3
> 
> This fic is a part of my alternate vampire!AU (with monshay rather than shaytham).  
> Enjoy! :)

Dealing with Silas’ business went harder than Haytham initially thought. No, getting into the fort was simple enough (humans are so easy to deceive), but when they started freeing Indians, the redcoats very quickly went into full-blown resistance which soon gained dangerous scale. And, to tell the truth, if it weren't for the Indians and that mysterious woman leading them, they would’ve suffered total defeat. Now Haytham saw that he attacked too hastily, that he didn’t gather enough loyal men for such an operation; but the opportunity was very fortunate to simply let it slip through his fingers.

By a strange quirk of fate, during the fight, some soldier managed to hit Haytham in the stomach with a bayonet, and although said soldier soon left the world of the living, iron from the weapon unpleasantly burned the wound, slowly spreading through his body. Haytham could only curse in his head and ignore the injury, for with so many witnesses around him he could not possibly jump at the nearest enemy and suck him dry, washing away harmful elements from his own blood. It would be disastrous, were Indians to somehow learn about his nature — if Johnson’s words were true, there were a lot of shapeshifters amongst Indians, and it was a commonly known fact that this folk always was very hostile towards vampires. No, Haytham could not allow himself to quench his thirst on the battlefield.

Meantime, the iron in the blood burned hotter, and by the time when all freed Indians left the fort and British officers loyal to Coraxes brought soldiers to replace Silas’ men, Haytham was barely able to contain his thirst. He desperately needed fresh blood. Unfortunately, the sun was high in the sky and all prisoners already in prison; it would've been very strange if he'd taken one of them from the cell now. Friends of his victim would’ve started asking unpleasant questions. No, the risk was too high.

Sure, Haytham could ask Johnson or Hickey to give blood (in his Inner Circle, those two were the only ones who knew his small secret), but _of course_ , when he sent one of his guards, a Corporal, to find those two, it turned out they had already left on their business. Church wasn't an option — too unreliable. Pitcairn was too busy ensuring communication between Haytham’s orders and British officers, he could not afford any loss of his strength. Kenway was left hoping he wasn’t wrong about Lee, and that loyalty and urge to serve that the man displayed were sincere. Otherwise, Haytham would be left without his second-in-command, again.

The Corporal hadn’t caught his breath from his previous race yet, and Haytham had once more sent him to find another person. This time, Charles definitely was somewhere in the fort, and if Corporal was lucky, he wouldn’t have to run around for very long.

Returning back to the Captain’s office, Haytham began to undress, hissing through clenched teeth every time his movements disturbed the injury. He knew from the experience that when the regeneration begins, all of the bad blood, all of the poison, rejected by his body, flows out from the wound, and Haytham didn’t want to get his uniform even more soiled than it was already. Yes, the red color splendidly helped him in hiding that he was injured at all, but so much blood would be visible anyway. Having got rid of the shirt, Haytham examined the wound as best as he could. The hole was so wide he could’ve stuck his thumb into it if he wanted to, and there was a thin grey web of lines around it, as if drawn on the skin; they weren’t black, which was good, it meant that the poisoning was weak and consequences of it would not be serious. To some extent, Haytham was lucky that soldier hit him in the stomach, not in the chest; it would’ve been very difficult to pretend he’s alright if he were coughing blood. No, he just had to endure some discomfort, that’s all.

“You called for me, sir?” asked Lee as soon as he opened the door and stepped inside, anxiety clear in his voice. Then he realized what exactly he was seeing (Haytham, bare-chested, washing away blood from his stomach with a wet piece of cloth). “You’re hurt!”

“Lock the door,” Haytham didn’t want to sound so sharp, but his self-control got thinned from prolonged pain and ever-growing thirst.

With a start, Lee obeyed even before he understood what he was doing. With a dull thud, the bar moved into the slot, separating them from the rest of the world.

“Sir, but we immediately have to call for the doctor!” Charles came closer, his eyebrows drawn together, as he tried to evaluate the seriousness of the injury. Then, as he saw the web around the wound, he frowned even more. “Were you poisoned?”

The aroma of hot and healthy blood clouded Haytham’s sense of smell with unexpected force, and he had to stop for a second, close his eyes. Overcoming the strong urge to plunge his fangs into other’s throat right this very moment and drink till sated, Haytham caught Lee’s concerned gaze. Seeing his eyes suddenly going wide, Kenway realized his thirst colored his irises red.

“Yes, I was. I didn’t want to reveal this to you so early, but, alas, I don’t have another choice," Lee started to say something, but Haytham silenced him with a sharp move of his hand as if chopping something in two. With a click, Charles closed his mouth. "I hope, you understand how it is important for my secret to remain as such, yes?” When the other man nodded, Haytham continued: “I am a vampire, and right now I need blood to cure this,” he looked down at the wound. “If it were up to me, I would have gone on a hunt and found a nameless victim, but I am forced to ask for your help.”

“Blood?”

“Yes, Charles, blood. I will not take much; in several days you will get back to normal.”

Lee swallowed, his eyes jumping nervously from Haytham’s red irises to his wound to his red coat, that was lying crumpled on the armchair. Haytham could see that his second-in-command was trying to wrap his head over all that was revealed, could see how his loyalty was battling against an instinctive fear, but the thirst was gnawing at Haytham’s patience, and he was forced to turn to his willpower in order to contain a growl that threatened to break loose. His inner beast was not fond of prolonged waiting.

“What should I do?” coming to a decision, at last Lee bravely looked into Haytham’s crimson eyes.

“If you’re right-handed, bare your left wrist and come closer.”

It was important that Charles crossed the distance himself — that way Haytham got an irrefutable proof the man indeed gave his consent to what would happen next. Swallowing, Lee threw off his coat and rolled up his left sleeve. He paused for a second, then uncertainly caught Haytham’s hungry gaze.

“Maybe, the throat would be better? I heard that-”

“Don’t propose that which you do not understand!” Haytham interrupted him sharply. Later, there will be time to explain everything. But not right now.

Hearing such a sharp rebuff, Charles visibly flinched and stopped for a long moment, tensely looking at Haytham, as if trying to see something. Kenway knew that right now anyone could notice thirst and impatience on his face (a site not for those of faint hearts), and the fact that Lee continued on walking towards him convinced Haytham this man was loyal indeed. With half-shut eyes watching Lee approaching, Kenway barely managed to swallow the pleased rumble of his inner beast.

When Charles came close enough, Haytham grasped him by the forearm and pulled closer still. Allowing himself to take a deep breath of the hot aroma (fear, respect, loyalty, ardor), he sank his fangs into the proffered wrist, at the same time pressing a piece of cloth to his own wound so that as little of the rejected blood stained his breeches as possible. Crimson wine of life washed down his throat in a wave of heat, it spread throughout his body like a healing potion, enveloping in softness and warmth. Haytham tried to make Charles comfortable, make him deaf to any pain, but he didn’t know whether he was successful or not, because a moment later he himself was stunned by the relief and triumph of a quenched thirst. Haytham could feel every drop of bad blood leaving his body, being replaced by the blood of Charles, still warm with his human heart’s heat.

Tearing himself away proved to be unexpectedly hard, but Haytham did it nevertheless, immediately after he was sure he has got required minimum. When night comes, he’d have to go on a hunt, but the poisoning was not a threat anymore. Licking last droplets of red that swelled at the puncture wounds, Kenway finally let Charles go and, first of all, checked if the man was alright. Seeing his drunk eyes, Haytham chuckled and helped him into the armchair, making a note to himself that he, it seemed, had gone a little too far in his attempts to relieve Charles of any pain during the feeding. Then Haytham made sure his own wound got healed; in its place now was a round mark of newly formed pink skin that soon will fade. The piece of cloth was totally ruined, soaked in blood, innocent crimson color of it not telling at all that it’s poisonous.

By the time Charles finally came to his senses, Haytham managed to more or less wash himself (at least, there was enough water for that) and get dressed again.

“That was…” Charles’ voice rough, as if strained from shouts.

“My apologies, if anything seemed inappropriate to you.”

“No, I…” Lee righted himself, looked at the bite mark like it enchanted him, “I’m glad I was able to help you.”

A moment before Charles suddenly turned crimson red realizing one small fact, Haytham finally understood what strange scent he was hearing; it seemed that he indeed went too far in applying pleasure to replace pain — in fact, he went so far that Lee, without noticing himself, came whilst feeding Haytham. In the worst case scenario, Charles risked hooking on Haytham's bites like others fall in love with alcohol, painful withdrawal, and longing for the next dose included.

But Kenway could do nothing about that. Yes, vampires had the ability to plant thoughts into others' heads and charm them, but only the human's will could tear those charms apart, so all was up to Charles now. Haytham would've been very pleased if he were able to regularly have Lee’s blood, so sweet it turned out to be, but that man was valuable not only for his red, so the purposeful rendering him into some sort of addict was not an option. He was left hoping Charles would come over the hypnosis that Haytham unintentionally planted into his mind during the feeding.

“Come to my house in several days and I’ll explain you the world that you unexpectedly plunged into today.”

“Very well,” Charles nodded, projecting outright nervousness.

Haytham left him to sort out his problems. A revived branch of House of Corax awaited it's Master, but the first thing to do — get out of this ugly uniform.

A whole week Charles went to great lengths to not remain alone with Haytham, his nervousness projected so strongly Haytham tasted it like black chocolate at the back of his tongue. Hickey was the first to notice Lee’s unusual behavior, and, being true to himself as Thomas was, he immediately started making vulgar jokes and ambiguous hints, angering Charles to the point of white-hot rage. If after that Lee had to deal with subordinates, those poor souls were in for several circles of hell, considering Charles' harsh temper. In fact, Haytham even began worrying that men could start deserting, but, nevertheless, he did not hurry his second-in-command. He wanted Lee to come to him on his own, just like before that feeding. So that Lee completely understood that it, too, was his own choice.

It took him seven days to make up his mind, and during that time Haytham could only watch from a distance and go hunting every night, forced to forget for a time his usual schedule of one victim per week.

Jarvey, the housekeeper, was informed about Lee, so when Charles came he was immediately let in and forwarded to Haytham’s office.

“I’m ready to listen, sir,” he said the moment he stepped through the threshold, his steps confident when he crossed Persian carpet.

The maid silently looked inside, a question in her eyes, but Haytham shook his head, letting her go, and the girl curtsied and carefully closed the door, leaving him and Charles alone. For a moment Haytham watched the man and his emotions, then nodded, satisfied with what he saw.

“Sit down, please,” he gestured at one of the two chairs standing by the opposite side of his table. “Before I start my explanation, maybe there’s something you want to know beforehand?”

“How have you become a vampire?”

“I was born as such.”

“But…”

“You can forget every and all stories about vampires that you've heard,” with a small smile Haytham interrupted him. “All lies. The sun doesn’t burn us, silver is not poisonous, nor garlic, in fact. We do not fear crucifixes or prayers.”

“Then what poisoned you a week ago?”

“Iron.”

Charles blinked several times, wrapping his head around what he’d heard. It was clear as day he expected something more… unusual.

“The steel is not as dangerous as pure iron — if too much of it were to get into a vampire’s body, he could die. And what a horrible death it would be. Do not worry,” Haytham quickly added, seeing Lee’s apprehension, “I’m out of danger. The main sign of a serious poisoning is a black web on the skin.”

“And what about beheading a vampire?”

"Why so bloodthirsty?" Charles smiled weakly, recognizing the joke; Haytham continued: "Yes, that would assuredly kill a vampire if someone were swift, strong and skillful enough to do such a thing. We, mind my words, are much quicker and stronger than humans, and possess more keen senses as well, so a mere human would never be a serious opponent to a vampire.”

For some reason, after these words Charles bowed his head, his gaze glued to his knees, projected emotions so tangled and melded together that Haytham couldn’t isolate any individual notes. There was something, perhaps a memory of some event from the past. It was all so mixed up that after several seconds of unsuccessful trying to dissect Charles’ emotions Kenway admitted it was to no avail and turned his attention to other matter at hand.

“Now from the very beginning. From the ancient times, vampires were always divided into two Great Houses: Assyfs and Coraxes. I am Corax, head of the House of Kenway, and I am a true vampire, one who was born into this world as such. There are turned vampires; they usually are weaker than true vampires, but exceptions exist. Lately, Assyfs and Coraxes are actively searching for Cain's Legacy… yes, your guess is correct. Precursor Artifacts play a major role in that. We call the race that gave life to vampires and shapeshifters "Precursors". Breathe, Charles, I need you alive, yes, shapeshifters also exist. And not only werewolves. I heard about foxes, panthers, bears, tigers and crocodiles. Next. With blood we can take not only energy but also knowledge. Do not fear, for that one have to explicitly want to do this, your secrets are yours still. Also, right now you are my second-in-command without any official standing in the House of Corax, and, if you continue to show your loyalty, I'll accept you into the ranks of human servants of Coraxes' with a possibility of, let's say, a promotion. Questions?”

“When I offered to drink from my throat, why you reacted so harshly?”

Haytham leaned back in his seat, thinking, and didn’t say a word for several seconds.

“How to put it mildly,” he said finally, “when I go hunting, then the most important thing for me is to get sated as fast as I can, so I bite on the neck. Most vampires prefer to do so because human's throat usually is the least protected vulnerability. And, because of that, vampires formed a certain attitude towards it. If the victim voluntarily gives blood, vampire bites on the neck only if the human is his or her lover. In other cases it’s considered polite to drink from the wrist, although the speed and the amount of the transferred energy suffer because of that.”

When Charles realized what exactly Haytham was saying, he turned bright red and looked down again. His heart, strong and young, was beating fast in his chest, the scent of hot blood as alluring as before. And amongst his emotions Haytham could feel embarrassment; he hummed in amazement, noticing attraction that was directed at him.

“Ah, I’ve forgotten to tell you. Vampires, especially true ones, can sense emotions of living creatures around them,” a thick wave of shame that arose after his words was so heady and intoxicating Haytham barely suppressed an urge to lick his lips, hunger to taste Charles’ blood high and bright.

“Sir, I-“

“You don’t have to say anything. I understand; whilst feeding I went too far with relieving you of pain, so you got confused in the reactions of your own body. It is true that vampires can to some extent enchant and enslave humans. I do not intend on doing such things to you. With time, you’ll get back to normal.”

Almost for a whole minute Haytham could see Charles warring against some urge — and losing.

“You are mistaken, sir,” he objected impulsively. “From the very first time we met you captured my attention in all ways possible, but I didn’t consider my attraction appropriate so I suppressed it, controlled it, didn’t allow it to interfere with my work. The fact that you’re a vampire only gives me more ways of serving you. My blood is entirely at your service, and, if it’s beneficial for you, you can bite me on the neck.”

Haytham thought no man could surprise him. Oh, how he was mistaken. During the time they’d known each other he never suspected anything of such in Charles; and if the man indeed was telling the truth, then his willpower was most admirable. It was not an easy feat, to keep one’s thoughts and emotions in check almost round the clock. Well, that definitely explained why sometimes Charles was so cruel.

Haytham could feel how with each word out of Lee’s mouth his irises turned more and more red, but after hearing his last offer Kenway was forced to shut his eyes and take a deep breath, suppressing savage instincts. He didn’t understand why he hadn’t noticed the delicious aroma of Charles’ blood earlier; perhaps, it would’ve hurried his coming to a decision about admitting Lee into the ranks of Coraxes’ servants. Salty notes were stronger now, somehow, as if a new wound appeared somewhere. Haytham swallowed and opened his eyes, looking intently straight at Charles. The man was sitting tight as a bow, clutching armrests, biting his lower lip; biting so strongly that he draw blood. That’s why the aroma intensified. And then the smell of arousal, that Haytham would always be able to discern now, mixed with the salty aroma of blood.

Too tempting to not to take this opportunity.

“Charles, you do understand that I won’t be able to love you in a way you, perhaps, want me to?”

“Yes. I’ll be satisfied with what you are willing to give.”

“In that case,” Haytham slowly rose to his feet, his eyes locked on Charles’, then in an unhurried, deliberate pace he went around the table, “I think, we are done with the business part.”

He stopped a mere step before the sitting man. If Charles’ drunk emotions, seething and restless, were anything to go by, his legs wouldn’t have been able to keep him upright right now. Charles started to clumsily untie his cravat, his hands visibly shaking either from fear or from impatience.

“No,” Haytham swiftly leaned forward, caught Lee’s hands and carefully pressed them down to the armrests, pressure soft but undeniably strong. A predatory grin curved his lips when Charles frantically sucked in a deep breath through the clenched teeth. The exhale nearly turned into a groan, Charles’ pupils so huge the icy irises were like thin rings of blue, almost supernaturally bright.

Low growl in his throat, Haytham captured Lee’s mouth with his own, kissing hard, hungrily, brushing the tender skin with his fangs and relishing in the taste of blood. It was the first time he kissed someone with a mustache, and Kenway definitely liked the feeling. When the shock subsided, Charles rushed into the kiss, answering with the same passion, his lips moving almost angrily, and at some point Haytham had to press his arms down with more force so that Lee kept his hands on the armrests as before. His displeasure, thought not very strong, was clearly visible; it seemed that Charles wasn’t accustomed to playing the second fiddle in such games.

Drawing back and giving Lee the chance to breathe, Haytham let his gaze roam over the man, assessing; Charles’ eyes were drunk, his breathing hard, the blood positively boiling with energy. Clearly, it was time to move onto the next part of the play.

"Sir," Charles had once more tried to free his hands, and this time, Haytham allowed him this, busying himself with ridding Lee of superfluous clothes, starting with the cravat, of course.

“During the feeding you can call me by my name,” slowly, his fingertips ran along the bared throat, up and up, the stubble causing the pads to prickle; Haytham felt Charles swallowing nervously, obeying the movement of his fingers and tilting his head back more and more.

His gaze glued to the ceiling, Charles visibly shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut, then arched backward to ease a little the discomfort of the awkwardly titled head. The quick staccato of his heart tempted to sunk fangs into his throat right this very moment, to feel his hot blood on the tongue. But if Haytham were to give into this temptation, he would’ve lost an opportunity to taste the most exquisite blood a human can possibly give to a vampire.

“Do you know,” Haytham’s voice low, rumbling, his British accent more prominent than before, “how you can satiate me without giving all of your blood? What has to be done to create more energy than there possibly is in a human body?” After the cravat he removed Lee’s vest and sword belt. He tried not to hurry, knowing that patience will pay back tenfold. When he voiced the last words, his hand covered Charles’ clothed cock, the pressure light, soft, giving only a hint of the touch.

Charles let out a long moan, biting down on his lower lip, hard.

“I can guess,” he rasped, clawing armrests with his nails, not daring to touch Haytham without his distinct permission. Charles projected so powerful emotions that for a moment Haytham thought that it was he who clawed unyielding wood, burning with lust.

Soon, soon he will satiate his white hot thirst.

“Sir, have mercy…”

Haytham snapped back to reality. When he realized that for several seconds he just stood there, reveling in the sweet tortures of Charles, he couldn’t contain a low and pleased growl.

Indulging in a little liberty, in a blur of motion he moved Charles to the carpet, covering his body, sealing his lips on a wildly beating artery at the side of Lee’s throat; Haytham’s hands were busy ridding the man of his breeches. Again, Charles bit his lip, stifling a long moan, and clutched at his shoulders as if afraid he’d move away, shortly after that pushing his hips upwards, pressing against Kenway’s groin. A short groan escaped Haytham’s lips, and for a moment something very much like hunter’s excitement flashed in the drunk icy eyes. Then a hand closed over Lee's cock, and those expressive eyes rolled back, mouth shaped in a perfect O, red lips, swollen a little, lured to lick and bite them in search of the new blood.

Later, when the novelty would fade a little, when Haytham would not choke on saliva every time he smelled this hot and wild blood — then he’d be able to prolong the foreplay; and then Charles would be able to satiate Haytham's thirst with only several drops of his blood. Today, though, was not that day.

He was shaking like a taut bowstring, and it was almost palpable, how close he was to coming. Haytham let go of his cock, sinking the not yet formed shout of indignation in his crimson eyes.

“Charles?” waiting till a flash of recognition showed on the man’s face, Haytham continued: “As much as I’d like to hear your screams, I want you to be quiet. That’s an order, do you understand?”

Charles frantically nodded.

The next second Haytham gripped him tightly, restricting any movement, and sunk fangs deep into the artery that was tempting him for a long time now. Energy exploded on his tongue, sharp and sweet and tart. Moaning softly in pleasure, Haytham pressed harder to Charles, swallowing hungrily the red essence of his life. Satiation came too quickly, wrapping Haytham in drowsy warmth, and as much as he’d love to drink more, he felt that he can’t do it. He couldn't even bring himself to lick away droplets of blood that appeared on the little puncture wounds and, quickly swelling, ran down in two scarlet trails, drawing false cuts across Charles' throat. Lee's chest heaved with quick, uneven gulps of air, waves of shudder washing over him; it seemed that he couldn't move even a finger. A carnal pleasure in its most prominent illustration, and Haytham felt an urge to slake not only his lust for blood but also the fire in his loins; but the part of him that was withholding his inner beast all his life didn't let Haytham slip. When a vampire and a human had sex, almost always it ended very bad — regardless of the chosen position.

But Haytham didn't want to be left without his — well-deserved, as his instincts insisted on adding — pleasure. Checking Charles and noting he didn't recover yet, Kenway rolled from over him and quickly seated himself in the chair where Lee sat before — there were explicit scratches on the armrests, and Haytham smiled with satisfaction, taking his cock in his hand. It was a simple matter of considerable skill to bring himself to the brink of falling, and though Haytham tried to prolong the pleasure, the memories of the recent feeding threatened to quickly tip him over the edge. However, he came the moment his gaze locked with one of Charles', the man looking surprised and hungry; there was no doubt that if he were able to move, he would've surely tried to help.

Gasping for air and groaning silently, Haytham threw his head back, riding the waves of pure delight. Charles echoed him with his own moan, almost broken, and again Haytham tasted the man's blood on his tongue, the wildness and salt and sweetness all mixed up and adding more nuances to the jolts of pleasure coursing through his body. Warmth and fuzziness shrouded him from toes to the top of his head, his cock almost too sensitive to the touch, yet it was too sweet not to hold it. Enough precum leaked for his palm to glide easily over the shaft, though nothing more came out (a long time ago he learned the technique of dry orgasms, not once since then regretting it).

"Haytham?" Charles sounded like he screamed at the top of his lungs for the past hour, delicious hoarseness tinting his voice to the low almost-growl.

Taking a deep breath, Haytham allowed himself one last shudder, then lifted his head and looked at Charles. He was sitting on the carpet with his legs crossed, looking wonderfully debauched with all the flushed skin, and rumpled clothes, and traces of his orgasm on his stomach. And he was watching Haytham, his eyes betraying more hungry admiration than anxiety. Catching this gaze, Kenway questioningly arched his eyebrow, and Charles, smiling, gestured at the armchair in which Haytham was sitting.

 “You’d have to buy a new one.”

Assessing the damage he’d done to the piece of furniture, Haytham was forced to agree; it seemed, that in the throes of passion he managed to crush the left armrest into splinters. And all this despite the fact that he specifically procured furniture that was made of the most sturdy wood that could be found; and yet, it didn’t endure.

“That’s why you were so careful with me, yes?”

“Yes, Charles.”

Certainly, dry orgasm had its pluses; for one, Haytham didn’t have to deal with a mess similar to that which right now so exquisitely marked Charles, giving him a look of a man throughoutly fucked in all possible ways. Haytham was already looking forward to what he’d be able to do with him later, after his becoming one of the Coraxes, with all the appropriate rights and strengths and stamina of a vampire.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [好结局 Pleasant consequences翻译 原作Taera](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6870526) by [yhxyssp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yhxyssp/pseuds/yhxyssp)




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